


he calls the mansion not a house but a tomb

by peculiar_mademoiselle



Category: Interview With the Vampire (1994), Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Louis/Armand mentioned only, M/M, Some Descriptions of Violence, Some non-consensual kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7142561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peculiar_mademoiselle/pseuds/peculiar_mademoiselle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four kisses between Louis and Lestat, across the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	he calls the mansion not a house but a tomb

**_1._ **

 As Lestat is draining him to the point of death, he can do nothing but lie back and try to keep breathing. His eyes are wheeling, searching for something, _anything_ \- some kind of absolution. But nothing comes, nothing falls from the sky, no-one runs to his aid, and pulls him free. All that exists in this moment is Lestat's mouth, open on his soft neck. His teeth are pushed into the vulnerable flesh, and Louis can feel as he sucks the life from him.

His captor is moaning, and he vaguely realises that he is doing the same. It occurs to him that they seem like a ghastly parody of lovers, he can hear himself gasping, his back arched, and he knows, to his shame, that if he still had any strength at all he would be painfully aroused. Lestat has him pinned to the floor, with one leg and one arm thrown over his useless body. He is trapped, by the vampire's body, and by his own.

By the time Lestat pulls away, black spots have bloomed in Louis' vision, and he feels as though he is viewing the whole world through a kaleidoscope. His head spins, and it feels as though the whole room is spinning too. Through his distorted sight, Lestat's face is reduced to a blur of white and yellow,  yet he is aware that it is coming closer and closer. Though he cannot see, he can feel and _taste_ when Lestat presses their lips together. His own blood is smeared all over his face, and he swallows some of it. A sickly and iron-like taste fills his mouth and Lestat pulls away.

Like a child who has dropped a toy, Louis struggles feebly, trying to bring back the only real sensation he had. Without it, he is floating in the liminal between life and death, senses dulled and detached. Lestat smiles beatifically and pushes his bleeding wrist into Louis' mouth.

**_2._ **

When Claudia was still a child, in mind as well as body, Louis and Lestat seemed to work as well together as they ever had, and perhaps ever would. Louis was feeding, if guiltily, and allowed Lestat to act much the way he wanted, provided Louis was allowed to be with Claudia. Their little daughter seemed to have repaired the wounds in their relationship, after all. And if the scars of resentment still pained Louis, he did not mention it, for the sake of his child.

On the eve of the first anniversary of her rebirth Lestat summoned Louis. Warily, Louis followed him to his study, expecting to find some beautiful whore, half-dead on the desk. Lestat's wayward idea of a gift. Instead sat on the desk is a little porcelain doll. It's china face is picturesque, with shiny red cheeks and pink plump lips, as well as bright blue eyes, the colour of lapis lazuli. It's head is covered with honey-blonde curls, that expertly frame it's little features.

"You bought this...to commemorate her birth?"

Lestat appears a little offended at his shocked tone, and sniffs haughtily.

"It is simply a gift."

For one single moment, something softens within Louis, and he allows his face to relax into the smallest of smiles. The hint of a smirk that is usually reserved for Claudia only, is for a brief second directed at Lestat.

Moving closer to his creator, Louis let him see that smile.

"It's lovely,"

The answering smile is brighter than the sun, and even with the inherent malice ever-present in his eyes, Lestat seemed genuinely happy.

Louis is unsurprised when Lestat leans forward and takes him in his arms, pushing their lips together. Sucking on Louis's plump bottom lip, and tangling one long-nailed hand in his dark hair, Lestat let out a moan of pleasure. Louis echoed, and relaxing into the kiss, is glad for a moment, to let go of the bitterness that so often feels like a millstone around his neck.

"Louis!"

Claudia's high-pitched trill pulls him out of his trance, and so he pulls himself out of the embrace. He's out of the room and down the stairs before he can see Lestat's face fall, and his eyes harden.

**_3._ **

When Louis finds Lestat again, they are both much changed. The loss of Claudia has hardened Louis, he feels drained of all tears and robbed of all purpose. His grief is not like human grief however, there is no cycle for him to go through. He cannot grow and change; and he can never forget. Claudia will exist in perfect clarity in his mind forever, a fact that is both a blessing and a curse.

Lestat however, is broken. And Louis hates to see it. Just as one hates to see a once beautiful garden, twisted and dead, Louis despises seeing Lestat like this. His skin is almost translucent, like onion skin, and holds none of the beauty it used to. His grey eyes are dull and deadened, where they used to remind him of thunderclouds, they now remind him of stone. Even his illustrious golden hair is dimmed, as though with ash - and the curls look more like tangles.

Pity pulls him to his knees, and he takes Lestat's papery hand in his. His once powerful companion is gazing at him as though he hung the moon, and something twists inside him at the sight. Armand too, used to look at Louis longingly, but what he wanted was far more pragmatic. Louis was to be a bridge to this new generation, and a pupil, who could be moulded into the perfect remorseless vampire. Lestat is simply looking at Louis like Louis is beautiful.

Deep down, Louis knows he cannot stay, knows that some wounds are still too fresh, yet he cannot stop himself leaning in.

Kissing Lestat is so different to kissing Armand. His emotions were not the same maelstrom when kissing him; he had incited feelings of security and affection. Lestat's touch caused a whirlpool of affection, attraction, regret, anger, hatred, pity, _love_. It was utterly intoxicating.

When he pulls away they both pause, for a moment, eyes closed. Before Louis pulls himself up and disentangles their hands.

"I have to go now,"

As he walks away Lestat gazes into the middle distance, his face painted with incomprehension and despair.

**_4._ **

When they finally find each other again, the world is unrecognisable from the one from which they came. They walk the city street, arm in arm, Louis' hair in a low-ponytail and Lestat wearing a leather jacket, his blonde hair in a messy bob. He watches with pride and excitement as Louis pulls away and stalks a shady looking man down an alley-way. He can barely suppress a moan as he watches his beautiful creation expertly end him, draining the man hungrily.

When Louis drops the corpse, and glances up, mouth and teeth painted red with blood, Lestat can hold back no longer. He pushes him against the wall of the alley, peppering kisses from his collarbone to his bloodied mouth  - whispering words of love. Gently, Louis places a hand on either side of Lestat's face, and pulls him back, to meet his eyes.

He studies the face he has missed, the face he has loathed, the face he has loved.

"My heart is yours,"

Smiling, Lestat pulls them back together and not for the first time and not for the last, they share a passionate and bloody kiss beneath the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> this is informed by both film and book canon, though the film is probably fresher in my mind. 
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
